Fred Astaire and Other News

So, my dad and I just got back from this cycling thing at the YMCA, and I feel like a piece of jello. However, I have come on here because I was at my mom's house last week and had an eventful dream that I've looked forward to reporting all this time.
I had this dream on Tuesday, I'm fairly certain. It consisted entirely of a conversation with my mother; she was venting, talking in circles as she usually does when she vents, and the object of her frustration was Fred Astaire, the famous dancer. In the dream, they were good friends, and both were the same age (which would put us back in the 1930's or so, but the setting wasn't very important in the dream). I was playing the piano when she turned the knob of the front door, returning inside after a walk with Bear in the neighborhood. She looked distinctly ruffled.
"What's up?" I asked as she opened her mouth to speak.
She shook her head, tight-lipped, replacing the leash on top of the piano. "I just can't believe it." she finally said, slowly.
"What?"
"Lisa down the street just told me that Fred - you remember him, right? We went to his concert a while back, he gave us free tickets - she told me that Fred's getting married! And he didn't tell me!"
"Oh." I said, somehow expecting something slightly more important. "How long's he been engaged?"
"Well, according to Lisa, five months. Their wedding's this Saturday. I can't believe this! I talked to him on the phone just the other day and -"
"Wait a second." I said. "This Saturday? Who's he marrying?"
"Hmm," my mom thought, fuming. "Some Japanese woman with a French name, Palais something. . .can't remember the surname. But I s'pose she's going to be Palais Astaire in a few days - and Fred didn't even invite us to the wedding!!!"
I stood up from the bench and walked over to comfort my mother. "It's okay," I consoled her, "If he didn't even have the decency to tell his best friend, then he's not worth worrying about."
She took the consolation well. Starting to walk to the other room with a new bounce in her step, she said, "Yeah, what an @$$hole - won't be calling to chat with him anytime soon." And this is about where the dream ended.
Last night, I was at Borders, reading a book by Carl Jung about dreams; he agrees with Freud about dreams being the manifestation of suppressed desires. As far as suppressed desires apply to the above dream. . .hmm. . .enlighten me, Mr. Jung. In any case, I figure that I'll sign off now and get into the shower.